Interlude: For Our Dreams

An LLS Production

Dedicated to Serpentdragon!

Somewhere in Neo Domino City, between the rich Tops districts and the middle-class Daimon Area, there was a building of medium height, barely a skyscraper. This building stood on the site of the former Arcadia Movement building, and contained the reinvented Arcadia Movement. The outside of the building was black stone, some panels polished smooth as mirrors, some panels craggy as cliffs, some etched with symbols and esoteric art. The main entrance itself was dominated by an arch of black marble, which, if you looked at it right you would see the mica gleaming from reflected light like so many stars in the night sky.

A castle of sanctuary, Seiran Shimotsuki had intended it to be, stolid and stable and evoking a feeling of security in darkness for Psychic Duellists. The Shimotsuki mistress had made it her life's mission to carry that aim out, one way or another. There was virtually no opposition to her takeover; Divine was not about to escape death a second time.

There were some perks to her job, she would admit. People tended to give her a wide berth, and the Yakuza families of Neo Domino tended to stay far, far away from Psychic Duellists or recruit them, which was when she showed her face and her powers. She held power, more than most other Psychics, and she used it as efficiently as possible. Her position also came with many contacts and influence, some of it reaching worldwide to places few ever reached, all in the name of good and equality... and possibly moral ambiguity, but Diana Hunter, or Seiran Shimotsuki, was not about to mince about.

Other than that... there were the drawbacks too. Such as people trying to kill them, troublesome cases, and the like. Such as now.

As Seiran eyed the crying man in the interrogation room of the Neo Domino Police Department, she wondered about the charges applicable to a police officer, much less to a detective inspector of the police.

"Let's begin with a simple question," her crisp command shut the man up. "Detective Inspector Hinamori Shinichi, you were called in for police questioning at the Daimon Area, where, according to witnesses, you were controlling a Deformer Boarden and Boomboxen, amongst other things. You were conducting the Deformer One-Turn Kill, to make your daughter happy, I note from the camera feeds. Then, your attack went wrong. I can recognise Psychic Duelling when I see it, and you are not a Psychic Duellist. Will you cooperate with us?"

"W- What?" the man muttered. "No, I won't let you take my daughter, I-"

"No one's taking Hinamori Seiran away, though I note that the divorce details may end up like so," Seiran glanced at the file to affirm the aura of curiosity, though she already knew most details of the case. "We have contacted Mrs Hinamori, and her general reply was... very tearful. She seems convinced that it's your fault."

He groaned. "Well, I'm a policeman, but I love my daughter. But... too many broken promises happened. Seiran was so happy, when I brought her out, and then there were a few punks. One thing led to another, and I was issued a challenge, and then I was strapping on a DuelDisk. But, Seiran was there... and I won, she was so proud... then Boomboxen hit him and he flew across the whole area. People started screaming... and then there were people calling me a freak and she over-reacted and there were swords suddenly-"

"And from there the X-Saber Anu Piranha proceeded to fight her way through the crowd to the car," Seiran finished for him. "Well, Commissioner Hinamori, I think it's fair to say that Hinamori Seiran is... one of us."

"My daughter is not a monster!" he boomed.

"Of course not," she easily answered without fear. "We Psychic Duelists are human beings too, albeit with a few additional talents. Hinamori Seiran is just a child with no thought of her talents and incapable of control. We can help her, but part of the work lies with you. Acknowledging that it is not your daughter's fault is the first step. Congratulations, sir. Fewer parents than you think actually do something like this."

The detective slumped in his chair, defeated as he glanced at the dewy-eyed blonde girl beside him. Shimotsuki Seiran would be a force of nature even without that one-eight-eight gaijin husband. "Is... there any way? Madam, you've done a lot already, surely I can keep my daughter... without her living at the Arcadia Movement?"

"Well, first is the impending custody case," Seiran considered. "I would recommend that you place Seiran under the custody of the Movement first. That should hamper Hinamori Haruka from claiming her daughter, although visitation rights cannot be curtailed. She will be living with you, or Haruka-san, whichever is her choice, but for now she seems attached to you."

"I... I don't want to leave Papa," the young girl insisted. "I wanna become a police officer... not like Mama..."

"Established," Seiran crisply stated. "She'll be living with you. Hinamori-chan, you'll have to come to the Movement tomorrow to get a limiter outfitted."

"A limiter?" her father repeated.

"Like this," Setsuka pulled out her silver locket, upon which a filigree snowflake was etched, gleaming with blue and white. "Topaz, or amber... Earth Attribute, maybe citrine... either way, the limiter is regulation for any Psychic capable of affecting the environment to such a large degree as you have. You're intelligent, Hinamori-keibu. After that, I'll arrange for Dr Ichihara to have a session with Hinamori-chan to discuss triggers and devise ways to avoid such triggers. Assuming no more crises, and that Mrs Hinamori doesn't have a decent lawyer or any motivation, it'll be a two-person family within the next two weeks. However... it's rare. It'll be an expensive favour."

"Fine," the man groused, already used to the woman's extortionist ways. "As long as Seiran remains."

"I love sincere parents," Setsuka mused. "It's not too expensive, limiters are actually covered by the Neo Domino Police after that... incident with Fudo Ryuusei. People don't want to think that the Black Rose Witch is coming back."

Shimotsuki Seiran would bring her daughter to work, and this day was no different from the rest. A young Setsuka was therefore present at the appointment of Dr Izayoi Aki, or Mrs Fudo Aki, depending on who you asked. Beside her was the well-known Fudo Ryuusei, who cast a curious look about the office, trying not to fidget under a cool, assessing gaze from cobalt eyes. Meanwhile, both women were discussing limiters and the materials needed for the boy.

"Stainless steel," Seiran declared, deciding on the limiter. "No opals... boys are so troublesome... stainless steel dog tags. I think we'll have to commission Dr Fudo for this. Ryuusei, you see? Even your papa's going to help."

"Papa makes limiters?" Ryuusei blurted out.

"Yes," Aki had answered, almost kindly. "All-metal limiters, for more professional purposes. The Movement usually uses some form of jewellery, but we have people working overseas that want something discreet. For such professional jobs, your Papa has bee delivering consistent results. He's been doing that for some time, Ryuusei." Aki sniffed. "Yusei... does that for us..."

"You have a wonderful husband," Shimotsuki Seiran teased, her voice bubbling with laughter. "Watch him well! Oh, and, Ryuusei, what's your epithet?"

"Epithet?" Ryuusei had repeated.

"Another name we use for your file," she laughed. "It's a word we use to disguise people, so that members are kept confidential unless requested by the authorities from us. A form of identity protection. I use Endymion, and Setsuka here is Polaris."

"Name..." Ryuusei broke into a big grin. "Regulus."

"The little prince," Seiran entered it quickly and professionally. "Regulus it is. Well then," she coughed, her voice now formal. "Ryuusei Fudo, code-name Regulus. Welcome to the Arcadia Movement."

The three standard Spells a Psychic Duelist made sure to learn first was the Sparks, Hinotama and Ookazi. Divine had been on to something with those three cards.

"I don't understand." Six months later, Ryuusei complained, rubbing at my aching temples. "It didn't work the first fifty times. It isn't going to work now."

"Forty-six times," she corrected, her voice very precise. "Dear boy, be specific."

"Okay," the boy sighed. "My head hurts."

"It's natural. You're blazing new trails in your mind. Once more, please."

"Couldn't I blaze the trails somewhere else?"

Seiran looked at him from where she sat at the desk. They were in the underground one, the desk having nothing but weapons and equipment for assembly; a veritable assemblage of cards laid out. She was dressed in black pants and a dark grey shirt, like on most days. She had very long, slender fingers, but those hands could make fists as hard as rocks. Being taller than Ryuusei, which most adults were, and she never anything when she got mad. If she got angry, she just went from saying please to a judicious application of power and teachings. When she hit, and it was only in hand-to-hand, it was quick and precise, and then it was over.

Ryuusei ducked his head, looking away and grumbling about Rex and going out, and then stared at the burnt spot on the ground. He was sitting in front of it, legs crossed. There were logs and tinder ready to go. There was a faint smell of smoke, and a bit of newspaper crumpled into a ball had turned black at one corner, but otherwise there was no evidence of a fire.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the Madame, as she was known as, turn back to her book. "Once more, if you please."

He sighed, closing his eyes to focus. Steady breaths being maintained, slowly relaxing and readying the boy as he gathered energy. And when he was ready, he leaned forward, thrusting the card at the makeshift fireplace, releasing the energy, and said clearly: "Hinotama!"

And as he spoke, he flicked the starter on the lighter palmed in his right hand. The little lighter immediately set the newspaper alight.

From right next to him, Seiran glanced up. "Put it out."

Ryuusei twitched, dropping the lighter in pure surprise as the words came out in a rush. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to disappoint-"

Her fingers closed into a fist. "I don't like to repeat myself."

Ryuusei swallowed, reaching into the fireplace to drag the burning paper out from under the wood. It singed a little, but not enough to cry about. He slapped the fire out with my hands, cheeks turning bright red as he did. "I... I'm sorry, I can't-"

"Give me the lighter," her voice remained calm.

Biting his lip, he did.

She took the lighter and bounced it a couple of times in one palm, a faint smile playing about her lips. "Ryuusei, I believe you will find that such ingenuity may be of great service to you as an adult. Such léger de main might indeed be useful in certain situations, far more than your own powers may prove to be." The smile vanished. "But you are not an adult. You are a student, a boy, barely even settled, only in your sixth summer. This sort of underhanded behaviour will not do. At all."

She closed the fist and hissed, "Hinotama!" The hand exploded into a sphere of scarlet flame.

Ryuusei stared and swallowed, as she rotated the burning hand a few times, contemplating it, and making sure that he saw her whole fist and arm, that no sleight of hand he'd palmed off Saiga had been involved. It was completely surrounded in fire, and it was not burning.

She held her fist right next to his face, until the heat was beginning to make its appearance in sweat, but she never flinched and her flesh remained unharmed. "If you choose it, this is what you may one day perform," she said calmly. "Mastery of the elements. And, more importantly, mastery of yourself."

"Um," he bit his lower lip. "What?"

"Humans are inherently weak," she continued in that same steady voice. "That weakness expresses itself in many ways. For instance, right now you wish to stop practising and go outside with your friend. Even though you know that what you learn here is absolutely critical, your impulse is still to put play first, and study later."

She opened his hand suddenly, and dropped the lighter in his lap. He flinched away as it struck his pant leg, but the red plastic lighter simply lay on the floor, unmarked by any heat. Gingerly, he touched it with a nervous fingertip, but the lighter was quite cool.

"Right now," she said, "You are making a choice. It may not seem very important, but in the long term, it may well be. You are choosing whether you will be the master of your own fate, with the power to create what you will from the world... or whether, you will simply get by, calling upon your power when you are in danger and mortal peril, uncontrolled and reactive. Unremarkable. Complacent." Her mouth twisted, her voice bitter. "Mediocre. Mediocrity is a terrible fate, Ryuusei. There are people who are mediocre, and it cannot be helped, since society will make them uniform one way or another. But you are in a position not to be mediocre, but to be great."

One of his hands hovered over the lighter, but he didn't pick it up. "What you mean is that... if I can't do it, you'll stop teaching me? I'm not going to remain a member?"

"Success or failure is not the issue. I will never stop teaching, nor will I throw you out of the Movement for being incompetent." Seiran met him eye to eye. "What matters is the success or failure of your will. Your will to overcome human weakness. Your will to work. To learn. To use the power inherited as you will, instead of having it react for you when you cannot. Instead of having a series of events you cannot control rule your life... instead of being told what to do, instead of hating yourself, you can control yourself. You can do what you want to, and care not about the rest of the world. If you must participate... you might as well do it on your terms."

She settled down onto the floor next to him, and nodded toward the fireplace. "Again, if you please."

He stared at her for a moment, then down at his hand, at the discarded lighter. "... yes, Ma'am."

He left the lighter where it was, grabbing the card and focused on breathing. Slowly, slowly, focusing on it more intently. A wind whispered, red locks whipped to the side, and Ryuusei opened his mouth. "Hinotama!"

And the remaining tinder under the logs burst into little flames, bright scarlet and orange. Ryuusei did not think he had ever seen anything more beautiful.

One of two cards, stolen. One was powerful, but controlled, it had weaknesses to exploit. The other was less controlled, and therefore more dangerous.

Ryuusei bit down, trying not to cry at the loss of one of two cards. Crying solved nothing, that had been established long beforehand. Even in the Arcadia Movement, there was a definite sense that crying was for pansies to do, and if they had to cry, it had best be done where you were alone.

It was difficult, but not impossible, especially with his poker face that all Fudo men seem to have. He could be strong. He still had Night Rose, it was not impossible... it wasn't, really-

"Silly child." Ryuusei nearly jumped in his seat at the appearance of the Madame, flanked by her shadow of a daughter. Setsuka's dismissive stare bored at him as Seiran knelt to face him.

"Congratulations, boy." the card with the scarlet monster was pressing into a slack paw, Ryuusei's eyes wide as he took in the sight. "Don't lose your choice again, okay?"

"I..." the young Ryuusei gaped from the card to one dark-haired woman. "How...?"

"It's a secret," Seiran placed a finger to her lips. So absorbed in his surprise was he, that he never noticed the bleeding cut on that finger then, that could have hinted at what had to be done to get it back, that made her what she would become...

...the price of the massacre that created the White Witch was a single card.

Ryuusei was present for the funeral. It was a closed-casket affair, the two coffins lowered to be interred at the Rex Goodwin Cemetery one cloudy day. The skies broke apart to unleash a torrent of rain over Neo Domino once last rites had been concluded, and then the rest of the adults, faceless associates and friends of the Shimotsuki couple left, only offering a vague consolation to the young Setsuka and a stoic Nakamura.

"What about the Movement?" Aki had murmured to Yusei when she thought that the children were not listening.

"It might have to pass to new leadership," Yusei had answered. "We... well, the Movement's work might be set back quite some time. Without Diana and Rafael, it would take years to continue from here to any significant progress-"

"It will not."

The Fudo family turned to see Setsuka face them with a glare, her hands balled into fists. "Setsuka..." Aki shook her head. "Without the backing of the Shimotsuki, we can't continue. The Arcadia Movement will have to pass to others."

"We will continue to fund the Arcadia Movement." Setsuka replied coldly as lightning split the sky overhead. "This was Mother's creation. This was her pride and joy. This was her triumph over modern society and its judgemental views on Psychic Duelists. This was, and still is, going to be the haven for all psychics. We will continue, whether or not my mother is alive or dead. We will see her dream to the end. I will see it to the end, or I am not my mother's daughter."

"Setsuka, be reasonable," Yusei sighed. "You are a child, even a precocious one. This is adult's work."

"How do others define adulthood is not up for debate. I am my mother's daughter, and a Psychic Duelist." Setsuka remained firm, even meeting Yusei eye to eye. "I can, I will, and I must do this. For my mother, for what she wanted for me, for Father, and for our dreams. For our ideals, the Arcadia Movement will continue, and we will achieve equality. That much we should at least do."

They did. Ryuusei still could not comprehend the sheer enormity of what she had done, but Shimotsuki Setsuka was nothing if not the daughter of hunters. The true price Ryuusei could not fully understand, but that much was clear: it was at a very high price that only one paid for the rest of Psychic Duelists worldwide to enjoy equality.

He owed everything to the Madame... perhaps even more.

Almost ten years later, he opened his eyes, lying on his bed. Turning his right hand palm up and focused upon that sudden kindling of light and hope, crystallized by the memory of that moment of triumph and joy.

"Hinotama."

The fire was every bit as beautiful as he remembered.

"Very good control," from her perch on the windowsill, Marguerite observed. "Very good control. Most Duel Spirits would not summon a Hinotama and have such fine control of it when they could conceivably throw it at the enemy instead."

Ryuusei looked at the flames, licking at his unburned flesh, burning scarlet in the night. Idly, he extinguished it with a wave of his hand. "I had a good teacher."

Perhaps, in his dreams, the Madame's laughter would echo once more.

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